One of Lifes Slaves | Page 8

joints, with which she always had to contend
at the beginning of the night. She was awakened by a wild shriek.
"What is it--what is it, Nikolai? Nikolai!"
She lighted the bit of candle. He was sitting up, fencing with his arms.
"I thought they were going to take my head off," he explained, when he
at length collected himself.
When she lay down again, Maren could not help thinking how glad she
was that she had no child to be responsible for. Every one has his
trouble, and now she had this rheumatism.
But it was a shock to her, when, on the kitchen stairs next morning, in
the presence of the servants both from the other side of the passage and
from the first floor, Mrs. Holman called her to account for having
interfered in what was none of her business. She then received such full
information, once for all, both as to why Mrs. Holman had shut him in,
and what they had to go through daily with that boy, that Maren was
completely nonplussed. For this Mrs. Holman could stake her life upon,
that if there was any one in the house who could not stand disorder or
unseemly behaviour, it was she. She could not imagine a worse
punishment than to have it said of her that she allowed shame and
depravity to flourish in her sight.
But when Maren sat down there in the evening by the lantern on the
chopping-block, and could hear the boy screaming right from the
Holmans' room, she was not capable of going upstairs until the worst
was over. She thought she had never heard anything so heart-rending,
even though it was in the cause of justice.

Up with Maren was a kind of harbour of refuge for the boy. He would
sit there as quiet as a mouse in the corner by the wood-box, carving
himself boats, which he put under his blouse when he carried Holman's
dinner down to the workshop near the quay.
To represent, however, that Nikolai's existence was passed, so to speak,
in the coal-cellar, or under blows on back and ear from Mrs. Holman's
warm hands, would be an exaggeration. He had also his palmy days,
when Mrs. Holman overflowed with words of praise--praise, if not
exactly of him, yet of everything that she had accomplished in her daily
toil for his moral improvement.
Twice a year she had to call for the payment for him at the
Consul-General's office in the town. Nikolai, too, often had leave to go
out to the country house with the kitchen cart, which had come in to
make the morning purchases.
And there he would sit, while the cart rumbled and jolted along the
road, smart and clean, head and body respectively combed and scoured
like a copper kettle that has been cleaned with sand and lye. He could
not sit still a minute; he talked and asked questions--always about the
horse, the wonderful brown horse--whether it was the best or the
second best, if it could go faster than the railway train, or who and what
it could beat.
Then the cart turned--so much too soon--into the yard in front of the
kitchen door, and he was led through the passage by the man-servant to
the nursery.
"I hope you have rubbed your shoes? You might have had the sense,
Lars, not to bring the boy in that way, with such shoes as those!" His
mother took him and set him on a chair.
And then he was given bread-and-butter and cracknels and milk. But he
must wait now until she came in again, for she was busy to-day
washing Lizzie's and Ludvig's clothes.
In rushed the aforesaid children, his equals in point of age; the one was

drawing a large saddled horse after him, the other was carrying two
large, dressed dolls. They had been sent out by their mother to play
with Nikolai. And they were soon in full gallop round the nursery.
Gee-up! gee-up!--Nikolai drew, and Ludvig rode--hi! gee-up! And at
last Nikolai wanted to ride too; he had been drawing for such a long
time. But Ludvig would not get down, so Nikolai dropped the bridle
and pulled him off the horse by one leg.
"You ragged boy! How dare you?"
"Ragged boy! Ragged boy yourself!" It ended with a fling up on to the
bed, behind which Ludvig entrenched himself howling, while his sister
took his part and joined in.
"What is the matter, what is the matter, dears?" cried Barbara, hurrying
in. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Nikolai, behaving like that to the
Consul's children! You'd better try it on! There Ludvig--there, there,
Lizzie--he shan't hurt you! Just do what they want, do you hear,
Nikolai!"
And then Barbara had to